


A Cold-Blooded, Psychotic Evil Mastermind

by Summertime_Queen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Humour, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, One Shot, Possible Innuendos, bottle episode, compliments, minor fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 23:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summertime_Queen/pseuds/Summertime_Queen
Summary: Crowley struggles to come to terms with being an evil demon and what his Angel thinks of him.-Silly little fluff-like stuff for funsies.





	A Cold-Blooded, Psychotic Evil Mastermind

It had just gone midnight. Aziraphale knew this because a clock began to chime somewhere in the old bookshop (it would take him seven more years to find where it had been buried in a literary landslide and finally put an end to it's infernal chiming forever) and the chimes had added up to twelve, which said to Aziraphale that is was midnight. Or lunchtime. The night sky through the half-covered window pointed more towards midnight. He gave a heavy sigh.

Crowley had not heard the chimes. He had not had the opportunity to count the chimes because, if he had, he would have known it was now midnight. He had not heard the chimes because his voice (which had steadily risen in volume in direct correlation with every sip of red wine consumed) had continued to talk over the chiming, and any other noise for that matter. Aziraphale did get frustrated when Crowley got like this - it didn't matter how many hints, yawns and 'oh my it's getting late and I have work to be getting on with's he tried, Crowley would just talk over them.

The worst part was that this meant that whatever Crowley actually wanted to talk about hadn't yet been touched on. Aziraphale had resigned himself to quietly reading the closest book he had whilst Crowley got it all out of his system. Unfortunately, it was a rather short book and had been completed within an hour or so. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy Crowley's company either, it's just sometimes one enjoys the solitude and being surrounded by personal joy. Normally, Crowley would be very good at taking his leave once the welcome (and alcohol) had run dry, which is why Aziraphale did not normally mind the occasional uninvited drop-in, such as the one tonight - only this time Crowley had only gotten through half a bottle of wine (Aziraphale had not partaken) and was doggedly avoiding _something_.

Aziraphale yawned loudly and animatedly - he didn't need to sleep at all, but he'd occasionally use the indulgence to his advantage. He contemplated just getting up and leaving, to see if Crowley would even notice as the Angel hadn't shown any interest for most of the night in the blur of words coming out of Crowleys thin lips, but he found himself concerned that there maybe something important bothering the Demon, who had now begun ranting about that one time a duck followed him home and he was so sure he it was spying on him.

Aziraphale glanced at the clock on the wall. Twelve-thirty. That was it, he'd had enough of this. He stood up, took the sloshing glass from Crowleys hand and downed the contents before slamming it on the table (not too hard, mind you - this was one of the nice glasses). He grabbed Crowleys collar, forcing him to sit up and make eye contact. Aziraphale took a moment to enjoy the stunned silence - the first in many hours.

"Now, what is wrong, dear?"

"Nuffin'". Crowley mumbled. "Woz I ramblin' agen?" He asked, failing to sound half as innocent as he was trying to. Aziraphale stayed silent, still clasping onto the Demons jacket and ignoring the alcoholic vapours from his mouth. "I mean, I had a bad day at work, I guess?" Bingo. Sometimes all it took was some light intimidation.

"Bad day?" Aziraphale softened his voice and let go, sitting back down opposite Crowley. Crowley made an odd noise as he straightened his jacket and poured himself a new drink. "Did they not appreciate all your hard work?"

"Nah." Crowley replied. "The opposite, actually. They want'd t'celebrate all the misdeeds an' evil I ben spreadin'." He slurred a little.

"Oh, marvellous." Aziraphale tried to sound pleased for his companion.

"Apparently, I'm rather infamous now."

"Really?"

"As... As some kind of... cold-blooded, psychotic evil mastermind!" Crowley spat, angrily.

"Oh?" Aziraphale didn't know how to react. "Is that not... well... a 'good' thing?"

"Nh-well..." Crowley wasn't really sure either. "I mean, yes..? I guess? I just... it doesn't feel right."

"Were you going for something more grandiose?"

"No!" Although he did like the sound of 'mastermind'. "It just takes all the finesse out of it, y'know? I work very hard-"

"When?"

"VERY hard to... y'know?" The interruption made him lose his train of thought.

"Annoy as many people as possible for as little effort as possible?" Aziraphale added, only slightly sarcastically.

"I mean..." Crowley couldn't think of any smart retort and so elected to ignore it. "But, am I not like, just an evil villain?"

"Aw, well you're my evil villain."

"You're not helping!"

"I'm not sure what you want help with!" Aziraphale sighed as he got up to make a cup of tea. Just one cup. Not two. Crowley pondered as he tried to figure out what he did want help with.

"Angel?"

"Yes, dear?"

"... Do _you_ think I'm a cold-blooded, psychotic evil mastermind?"

"Well..." Aziraphale poured the hot, sweetened tea into his mug and stirred as he thought. "Well you're no mastermind."

"Ouch."

"But you are (were?) a snake, you find humour in misfortune and have some pretty dastardly ideas - oh don't pout at me like that." Aziraphale said as he sat back down. "But, I wouldn't use the words 'cold-blooded', 'psychotic' or 'evil' to describe you, either." Aziraphale added.

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment anymore?"

"Neither am I, it's all rather confusing, isn't it?"

"... Angel?"

"Yes, dear?"

"How would you describe me?"

"Me?" Aziraphale sipped his tea and smirked. "I'd describe you as devilish, dramatic, neurotic and up past my bedtime."

"Okay, okay." Crowley smiled as he finished his glass and stood up to stretch. He put on his signature sunglasses and began to leave as Aziraphale got that twinkle in his eye.

"I'd have said 'nice'-"

"Don't."

"-but I'm rather enjoying this tea and don't fancy your wrath right now." Aziraphale winked with a smug look on his face. Crowley made another odd noise as he swivelled and swaggered to the front door.

"Night, angel."

"Goodnight, dear."

**Author's Note:**

> Still can't decide whether they're sleeping together or not, so I've decided they just tease each other until it gets too much. One day I will write that part, but for now I will settle for this.
> 
> Let me know what you think :)


End file.
